


long ago and far away

by agentcxrter



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 14:28:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2625137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentcxrter/pseuds/agentcxrter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When you dip her in the middle of the dance floor, it's the color of her dress.<br/>When she whispers in your ear, it's the color of her lips.<br/>When you look her in the eyes for the last time, it is the fading color of your heart, falling to it's knees."</p>
            </blockquote>





	long ago and far away

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know. Based off an ask on Tumblr I saw over how to describe the color red without saying the word red. That, plus a little Billie Holiday and Sinatra, and this was born. I apologize.

At the end of it all, they go dancing. 

The club is dimly lit, evidence of the war still fresh around them.  Soft jazz music plays off a record and floats around the room, reaching everyone’s ears.  

Peggy’s never looked so beautiful, with the soft sepia light reflecting off of her dark hair, her signature red lipstick a shock in comparison to her complexion. She's wearing her red dress again, and it looks just as amazing as the first time he saw her in it. She's smiling, and it's radiant, attracting the eye of every man in the club.     

 

But she is his, for tonight, and every night after that.    

 

As for him, he's wearing his military uniform – and Peggy says he looks like a gentleman. She smiles at him again, and his heart soars.  

 

“Well, Captain,” she says, “are we dancing?” 

 

“I don't know how,” he confesses, and she laughs. 

 

“Don't you worry. I'll teach you.”    

 

He leads her out onto the dance floor, and she leads him into a waltz, counting in his ear. He gets the hang of it, and dips and twirls her at all the right intervals.  

 

Around them, the music floats on. 

 

_The clouds were overcast, but now they have passed ‐ you're here at last..._

 

“I've never cared for Sinatra,” Peggy says, as he turns her.   

 

“What'd he ever do to you?”   

 

She snorts. “I just don't care for the sound of it.”   

 

“Okay, I'm now a lifetime fan.”   

She glares at him, and he laughs.

 

He looks around at the other patrons in the club, all of the swaying couples around the floor. He looks at Peggy, and his heart sweeps with love.

 

 He's finally here with her; the war is done. It's almost too good to be true. 

 

"I love you,” he murmurs, just low enough for her to hear.  Peggy gazes up at him.    

 

“I love you too, Steve.”   

 

He smiles, and he's so warm, so warm, unbelievably warm.

So warm, it's starting to be getting uncomfortable.    

 

“….Does it seem hot in here to you?”   

 

“If this is your idea of a cheesy joke, then – “ 

 

“No, seriously, I think there's something wrong –“   

 

He doesn't get the chance to finish, because he's drifting away. 

 

He yells and yells, but it doesn't stop him from melting away from the club, from the Sinatra, from Peggy.

 

  He can't stop it. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  He wakes up in an unfamiliar room, with bland walls, and a radio in the corner. A Dodgers game, from back in ’41 is playing. He remembers – he went.    

 

He knows something isn't right.    

 

A woman walks in, and she looks like Peggy, and it makes Steve wonder where she is, because if Peggy were here, this nonsense would be stopped at once. For a second, he think it's her. But the hair is too long, the skirt too ill‐fitting. 

He asks her where he is. It proves to be no use, as he knows she's lying.

 

 He breaks out, running and punching guards with guns in the face. 

 

He has to find her – where could she  _be_? 

 

 

He runs, and he's lost in the middle of a strange looking street ‐ it's Times Square, his Times Square, but it's different - he's lost in so many sights and sounds, he can't even breathe, where _is_ she?

 

  A man in all black approaches him. He has an eyepatch and scarring around his right eye.    

 

“I'm sorry about all that back there, but we just wanted to break it to you..gently.” 

 

  He is suspicious.  

 

  “Break what?”   

 

The man regards him with a sad smile.    

 

“You've been asleep, Cap. For almost seventy years.”   

 

He looks around, and it sinks in. This Times Square is not his own. These streets are not the same ones he was raised on.

 

He is no longer a kid from Brooklyn - well, not this Brooklyn, anyway.

 

The man looks at him.    

 

“You gonna be okay?”   

 

“Yeah,” he says, looking up at the sky.    

 

 

“I just had a date.”  


End file.
